


The Phantom Train

by magnedhead



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Bad Jokes, Combat, Dante (Devil May Cry) - Freeform, Demons, Devil May Cry (Game), Gen, Jokes, Lady (Devil May Cry) - Freeform, Pre-Devil May Cry 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 22:57:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20235757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnedhead/pseuds/magnedhead
Summary: Dante is hired for a job by a group of human agents and fights a large daemon in a compact train carriage





	The Phantom Train

# I

Rain drums on the pavement, coming down in droves as it has been all day. For the citizens of Redgrave City, it proved a huge nuisance. For the weird ensemble in the industrial harbour it was proving great cover. No workers or police offers had approached them as they made their entry and proceeded to their destination. Of the five, four wore yellow raincoats. The fifth was so far gone that it cared not, its breath steaming in the cold evening. Its massive feet thumped along its masters, arms like battering rams ready at its sides. Obsidian armour covered its daemonic form, streaks of red against the black rock. 

Occasionally they stop and one of the figures in the raincoats points out a direction for them to continue, until they arrive at a cluster of warehouses. To the layman they all seem identical, but to one schooled in certain arts, one particular concrete box stands out amongst the rest.

“This is the one.” The pointer says. He stands as far away from the ram-armed monstrosity as he can.

“So it would seem.” Another of the raincoats says. “You will get your payment once we make sure it is not some base ruse.” He adds.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t dare trick you lot.” The pointer says, eyes darting back and forth between the raincoats and the monster.

“There is little need for trust, my friend.” The lead raincoat motions to the monster. “Belias, bring down that door!”

The monster ‘Belias’ smiles with a childish glee then roars, striding up to the giant steel gate leading into the warehouse, and pulling back one of its enormous arms.

“Stop right there! What are you freaks, what are you doing here?” A voice says, more annoyed than authoritative. Walking out of the rain is another raincoat, this one bright blue rather than the yellow of the group. A badge is quickly produced, held out from the protection of the coat.

“I asked you a question.” The police officer says, his anger rising. One hand is held ready at his hip while the other presents his badge.

“We don’t need to waste any time here. Belias, dispose of the interloper!” The lead raincoat shouts, the huge daemon responding with a gleeful roar and a leap through the rain that sends the officer flying to the ground by impact alone. A huge fist is raised, descending like a meteor falling to earth, the officer barely aware of what is happening, screaming and holding his arms in front of him to try and protect himself.

“Hello officer, you look like you could use a hand.” A voice says, full of humour despite the oppressive weather.

The officer peers past his upheld arms to the sight of a massive sword keeping the daemon away, even as the monster roars in fury and pushes with all its might, it does not budge an inch.

“And you, Rocky, you roll on outta here.” The sword changes angle and with a shower of black rock splinters it slices the ram-arm in two. Belias howls in surprise and brings its other fist to bear. The owner of the sword, a man in a red leather coat, easily sidesteps the blow and with a strike almost too quick to see, the ram-arm flies off, severed at the elbow in a gout of blood. The monster roars in anger for a moment but quickly weakens, collapsing onto the ground.

“So, Belias was weak. But you will not find me such easy prey, stranger.” The lead raincoat says, his arms stretching out from the sleeves of his raincoat. A hint of lightning plays on his fingers, then it is unleashed, wrapping the redcoat in thunder and lightning.

A gunshot rings out over the harbour and the lightning stops, the steam rising from the red-coated stranger the only suggestion it was ever there. The raincoat leader collapses to his knees then falls flat on his face; a gaping hole blown through his forehead.

“Sorry, I didn’t feel like getting buzzed tonight.” The redcoat man quips. A smoking handgun is put back in a holster on the back of his coat, returned to its black-plated twin.

The last two raincoats look at each other, then draw small knives, charging at the redcoat with some chant on their lips. Their chants never finish, the man stepping forward and between them quicker than the officer can follow. Two thumps ring out and the raincoats crumble to the ground, hit square in the temple with the butts of the man’s guns.

There’s a splash of water as the last raincoat falls to his knees. “Please don’t kill me, they forced me to help, I don’t even know what they were looking for!”

“They paid you. But don’t worry, it’s not my style, killing an unarmed man. Just run on outta here.” The redcoat says and stows his handguns away.

The man rises with a mumbled blessing and makes it two steps before he stops again, hands raised and lips quivering.

“So, you finally show yourselves.” The redcoat says, turning around to face the people that have been stalking him for days. He had noticed them days ago but decided to keep on the track of the raincoats, handling his pursuers when they would come out of hiding. His sword rests on his shoulder, ready for use.

“Mr Dante. You can call me Mallet.” The man in front says. He’s dressed in a black coat, white shirt and black-tie visible underneath. One hand tucked in a pocket and another holding a transparent umbrella. He appears unarmed, but the men behind him have weapons clearly displayed, automatic firearms with safeties on, though ready to change that at a moment’s notice. A matte-black car is behind them, hidden in the dark night.

“I’m in the middle of a job, can this wait?” Dante says.

“I am afraid it cannot. We have an important job for you, and time is running short.” The man says

“Sorry dude, I don’t leave cases unfinished, no matter the payout. Principle, you see.” A smile spreads on Dante’s face. “Though I can’t imagine it’ll be much longer.”

The man seems flustered at Dante’s refusal but his tone is as measured as before. “How much longer do you think? This is-“

His sentence is not finished when shouts and a shower of glass erupts behind him. A whistling sound is interrupted by a series of loud bangs and flashes in front of the suit as Dante opens fire with his handguns, shattering the fangs of the daemon that just landed on the roof of the SUV, the daemon howling in frustration at being denied its first prey but then unfurls a multitude of scythe-arms, its body contorting to unleash a deadly spin on the human agents.

“Catch!” Dante shouts then hurls _Rebellion_, the massive sword turning end over end on its travel. The creature howls in pain a second time as it is impaled and thrown back off the car by the impact. There’s a thud and a splash as the daemon lands somewhere on the other side of the car, howling briefly before a further blast from a firearm silences it. The human agents are clearly shaken but Dante waits patiently for this guest to reveal themselves.

They appear around the corner of the car, smoking sawn-off shotgun in a holster, Dante’s sword resting over her shoulder. In her other hand the daemon-hunting mercenary Lady has one of the transparent umbrellas used by the agents.

“Didn’t know swords were your thing. Did Trish give you some lessons?” Dante says with a smile.

“Maybe she did.” Lady replies and quickly strides to Dante’s side through the rain. “But I think I’ll stick with my guns.” She finishes and hands over the sword, Dante returning it to its holster behind his back.

“So, what’s all this about then?” Dante says, returning his attention to Mr Mallet. The man seems to have recovered from the daemon’s sudden appearance.

Mallet adjusts his tie and begins to speak. “I cannot speak of who I work for, but we have uncovered evidence of a terrorist attack on Redgrave City, part of that evidence suggesting,“

Mallet looks at the cooling form of Belias on the ground behind Dante. “Otherworldly agents at work. Your services came highly recommended.”

“I think I can guess by whom.” Dante says. Lady affects a curtsy while holding the transparent umbrella.

“I don’t work for free you know.” Dante says, returning to Mr Mallet.

Mr Mallet retrieves an envelope from beneath his coat. “We are prepared to pay an advance, as well as a generous amount once the job is completed.”

“As well as covering expenses incurred during the job.” Mr Mallet adds after Dante doesn’t respond.

That puts a smile on Dante’s face. “You just had to say.”

# II

_Good thing it’s an automated train_. Dante thought as the passengers of the train-car jostled past him, guided out by the train conductors. At the far end of the carriage the bulky figure he’d spied slowly rose from his seat and turned to face him. A yellow raincoat cloaked his form, but Dante could sense the daemon underneath. Before Dante could speak, the man stretched his arm forward and a mass of vines explodes outwards, streaking towards the passengers ambling out of the carriage, the humans screaming in terror at the sudden attack. With a rush of air, _Rebellion_ cut a circle, separating the vines from their source, the now-dead plants splattering against walls and seats.

“Whoa now, George of the Jungle, no need to lash out.” Dante says, resting his sword on his shoulder. One of his pistols comes out and he squeezes the triggers and the man’s upper body is riddled with bullet impacts. He staggers back a step but doesn’t fall, only a trickle of blood from the many wounds on his body. Without a word he steps forwards and flexes, his muscles convulsing briefly then expanding, his skin splitting as his daemonic form emerges. His skin does not change tone, but the visible texture shifts, becoming like a tree without bark. More vines spring from his form, wrapping around the tender tree-flesh like armour and tightening into two additional arms, followed by sheets of bark folding around from his back. Amber-coloured points of light look out from a mask of bark as the massive daemon-form looms over Dante, the top of its head nearly touching the roof of the carriage.

“Hecaton.” It said in a deep voice.

“That’s your name, then?” Dante replied.

Hecaton says nothing but moves, one of its vine-arms punching through the wall behind it, into the cabin of the train. With a whine of engines and a lurch the train begins speeding up, the terrain outside the windows passing ever faster.

“Well Hecaton, to me you’re a big fat pay-check so I’m going to have to do some pruning.” Dante shouts, leaping forward and bringing his sword down in a blurry arc, the blade slicing through the vine-arm brought up as defence and biting into the bark beneath, but Hecaton itself does not flinch. An arm like a tree-trunk comes crashing down towards Dante, the daemon-hunter sidestepping in between two seats, _Rebellion _still embedded in Hecaton’s bark. A mass of vines erupts from the cut stump of the vine-arm, grabbing Dante by the legs and lifting him into the air. Dante rips his guns from their holster and blows the vines away in a hail of gunfire, dropping him back to the carriage floor, his hand grabbing the hilt of _Rebellion_ on the way down, the force breaking the sword from its hold. As Dante rolls back and away, Hecaton still has not moved from its position.

The view through the windows of the train is a blur and the train is still speeding up. Time is running low. Dante turns and speeds towards the door towards the rest of the train. Behind him a cluster of vines spring into action and follow him, flanking him on each side as he approaches the door. Both guns whip out, decimating the vines in a hail of bullets but more come, trying to grab him or whip at his eyes. He dances back and forth over the backs of the seats as he fights through until he crashes through the door compartment door, the material buckling as he kicks it aside and rolls into the separation compartment, the rubber walls vibrating with the brutal speed the train is travelling at. Through the mangled door Dante can see more vines coming so he wastes no time, stowing his guns and drawing _Rebellion_ in a two-handed strike, shearing through the rubber protection to the metal connector beneath. Another blow easily parts the metal, separating the leading carriage from the rest of the train. Already the remaining rubber begins stretching and tearing as the lead train begins pulling away. More vines spring through the gap in the door to grapple at the metal connector but Dante swings with his sword, advancing back into the carriage in a flurry of strikes, vines littering the floor and walls until he pulls the door shut behind him, wedging it shut with a bullet in each corner and a solid kick.

Hecaton still stands in the same spot, bark-covered limps wrapped around him for protection. Even his legs are tightly wrapped in vines that dig into the floor beneath him, those same vines circling up through his body and out to the ones protecting him.

With a flick of his vines, Hecaton strikes out towards Dante in another mass speeding up the central aisle.

“Let’s wrap this up, shall we?” Dante quips and counters with _Rebellion_, parting the vine-mass down the middle and holding his sword against the continuing stream of vines that part on the sword’s edge, until they let up for the slightest moment so he ducks and roll under, whipping out his handguns and shoots the vines down, covering Hecaton’s form in another barrage, Dante firing away and stepping closer and closer, vines scattering to all sides. When the barrage subsided, Hecaton’s bark-armour is riddled with bullets but undamaged, a dry laughter coming from within his chest.

“The mighty Dante, powerless before me!” Hecaton roars with glee and raises its huge arms to beat down on Dante.

Dante grins and steps past the attack, hooking an arm under the daemon and lifting, the bullet-riddled floor giving way in a screech of metal. Hecaton suddenly finds itself horizontal and a meter in the air, the vines wrapped around its legs striking out for the ground for stability and strength, but Dante swings _Rebellion_, slicing the vines apart.

“A wood-chopping we will go!” He shout and taps into his true daemonic power, his form shifting in a blink of red lightning, skin turning to daemonic scales and eyes blazing red light, _Rebellion_ screaming through the air and parting Hecaton down the middle like a log of wood, the amber light in its eyes vanishing in the blink of an eye. With a crash the two halves fall to the floor, a few scattered leaves drifting in the current from the fading air-condition.

Dante returns to his human form and, sheathing his sword, dashes for the cockpit. The control-board is a mess, the vines having torn through to interface directly. The brake-handle comes off before he can put any strength into it. In the distance Redgrave City grows closer by the second. An idea occurs to Dante, but he would have to hold Mr Mallet real close to the part about covering expenses.

In a barrage of gunfire Dante destroys the remainder of the control-board and the window, the glass shattering into the cabin in the sudden onrush of wind. “Sorry buddy, you’re going to have to stay put.” Dante mumbls and takes off his leather coat, leaving it behind in a locker in the cabin alongside his weapons. _Rebellion _is jammed into the metal floor.

That done, Dante leaps out of the broken window to stand on the tip of the train, the onrushing wind pushing his hair back. Far behind him on the railway track he can see the wagons he’d cut away have almost come to a halt, so it’s just the lead carriage left. With a sigh he puts his plan into action, his back to the train, hands on the nose of the carriage and feet bracing against the wooden ties. Wood splinters and metal screams as he hits the ties at a tremendous speed, shattering them as he goes, his body straining between them and the train. It works, slowing the train but not quickly enough, for Hecaton had pushed the engine to its maximum, and if it goes on like this it will devastate the train station that was slowly growing visible at the top of the hill the train was climbing. A second idea occurs to Dante, one far more appealing than his current attempt.

With a brief countdown he flips and taps back into his daemonic power, feeling that familiar surge of strength, speed and precision. As the next tie arrives, he bends to absorb the energy of the train and lifts with all his strength, his daemonic muscles bulging and his legs holding like great pillars. The tie bend but does not break, the metal train carriage whining and screaming as all its forward momentum is directed into the air and over Dante, flipping upside down. He keeps his hold, bending over backwards with his feet holding onto the tie like claws, bringing the enormous carriage over and behind him, slamming it down to stop its movement entirely. It smashes into the railway on the other side of him, shattering into a myriad of chunks and scattering over the rails, but it stops. Behind him screams and shouting can be heard, probably humans at the train station in confusion and fear as to why a carriage has suddenly lifted into the air then exploded on the ground. Going back to his human form again, Dante grabs his things from the smashed upside-down cabin and runs to the station. If Mr Mallet isn’t ready, this would get messy.

# III

Mr Mallet had indeed been there, looking far more flustered than last Dante had seen him, eyes darting between Dante and the mess of metal scrap in the distance. At Mallet’s command, railway workers were dispatched, both to ‘assess the damage’ and to ferry the passengers back to the station.

“Mr Dante, what happened?” Was the first thing the man said to Dante.

“Your information was correct, there was a daemon on the train.” Dante started. “It probably wanted to ram the train into the station at full speed. I would say ask it why, but it’s kindling now.”

“You better keep to your end of the bargain.” Dante adds with a smile.

Mr Mallet looks exasperated while loudspeakers on the station begin delaying and cancelling arrivals. 

**Author's Note:**

> To a large degree this story was an excuse to have Dante supplex a train.


End file.
